In chapter II of his memoirs, Sherman describes
life in Upper California, and tells of his experiences at Monterey,
his visit to the newly-named San Francisco, and the last of the
Mexican War fought in Lower California. Shermans adventures
in California began in January 1847, after a long trip around
the Horn to Monterey.

All the necessary supplies being renewed
in Valparaiso, the voyage was resumed. For nearly forty days we
had uninterrupted favorable winds, being in the trades,
and, having settled down to sailor habits, time passed without
notice. We had brought with us all the books we could find in
New York about California, and had read them over and over again:
Wilkess Exploring Expedition; Danas Two
Years before the Mast; and Forbess Account of
the Missions. It was generally understood we were bound
for Monterey, then the capital of Upper California. We knew, of
course, that General [Stephen Watts] Kearny was en route for the
same country overland; that [John] Frémont was there with
his exploring party; that the navy had already taken possession,
and that a regiment of volunteers, Stevensons, was to follow
us from New York; but nevertheless we were impatient to reach
our destination. About the middle of January the ship began to
approach the California coast, of which the captain was duly cautious,
because the English and Spanish charts differed some fifteen miles
in the longitude, and on all the charts a current of two miles
an hour was indicated northward along the coast.

At last land was made one morning, and here
occurred one of those accidents so provoking after a long and
tedious voyage. Macomb, the master and regular navigator, had
made the correct observations, but Nicholson during the night,
by an observation on the north star, put the ship some twenty
miles farther south than was the case by the regular reckoning,
so that Captain Bailey gave directions to alter the course of
the ship more to the north, and to follow the coast up, and to
keep a good lookout for Point Piños that marks the location
of Monterey Bay. The usual north wind slackened, so that when
noon allowed Macomb to get a good observation, it was found that
we were north of Año Nuevo, the northern headland of Monterey
Bay. The ship was put about, but little by little arose one of
those southeast storms so common on the coast in winter, and we
buffeted about for several days, cursing that unfortunate observation
on the north star, for, on first sighting the coast, had we turned
for Monterey, instead of away to the north, we would have been
snugly anchored before the storm. But the southeaster abated,
and the usual northwest wind came out again, and we sailed steadily
down into the roadstead of Monterey Bay. This is shaped somewhat
like a fish-hook, the barb being the harbor, the point being Point
Piños, the southern headland.

Slowly the land came out of the water, the
high mountains about Santa Cruz, the low beach of the Salinas,
and the strongly-marked ridge terminating in the sea in a point
of dark pine-trees. Then the line of whitewashed houses of adobe,
backed by the groves of dark oaks, resembling old apple-trees;
and then we saw two vessels anchored close to the town. One was
a small merchant-brig and another a large ship apparently dismasted.

At last we saw a boat coming out to meet
us, and when it came alongside, we were surprised to find Lieutenant
Henry Wise, master of the Independence frigate, that we had left
at Valparaiso. Wise had come off to pilot us to our anchorage.
While giving orders to the man at the wheel, he, in his peculiar
fluent style, told to us, gathered about him, that the Independence
had sailed from Valparaiso a week after us and had been in Monterey
a week; that the Californians had broken out into an insurrection;
that the naval fleet under Commodore Stockton was all down the
coast about San Diego; that General Kearny had reached the country,
but had had a severe battle at San Pascual, and had been worsted,
losing several officers and men, himself and others wounded; that
war was then going on at Los Angeles; that the whole country was
full of guerrillas, and that recently at Yerba Buena the alcalde,
Lieutenant Bartlett, United States Navy, while out after cattle,
had been lassoed, etc., etc. Indeed, in the short space of time
that Wise was piloting our ship in, he told us more news than
we could have learned on shore in a week, and, being unfamiliar
with the great distances, we imagined that we should have to debark
and begin fighting at once. Swords were brought out, guns oiled
and made ready, and every thing was in a bustle when the old Lexington
dropped her anchor on January 26, 1847, in Monterey Bay, after
a voyage of one hundred and ninety-eight days from New York.

Every thing on shore looked bright and beautiful,
the hills covered with grass and flowers, the live-oaks so serene
and homelike, and the low adobe houses, with red-tiled roofs and
whitened walls, contrasted well with the dark pinetrees behind,
making a decidedly good impression upon us who had come so far
to spy out the land. Nothing could be more peaceful in its looks
than Monterey in January, 1847. We had already made the acquaintance
of Commodore Shubrick and the officers of the Independence in
Valparaiso, so that we again met as old friends. Immediate preparations
were made for landing, and, as I was quartermaster and commissary,
I had plenty to do. There was a small wharf and an adobe custom-house
in possession of the navy; also a barrack of two stories, occupied
by some marines, commanded by Lieutenant Maddox; and on a hill
to the west of the town had been built a two-story block-house
of hewed logs occupied by a guard of sailors under command of
Lieutenant Baldwin, United States Navy. Not a single modern wagon
or cart was to be had in Monterey, nothing but the old Mexican
cart with wooden wheels, drawn by two or three pairs of oxen,
yoked by the horns. A man named Tom Cole had two or more of these,
and he came into immediate requisition.

The United States consul, and most prominent
man there at the time, was Thomas O. Larkin, who had a store and
a pretty good two-story house occupied by his family. It was soon
determined that our company was to land and encamp on the hill
at the block-house, and we were also to have possession of the
warehouse, or custom-house, for storage. The company was landed
on the wharf, and we all marched in full dress with knapsacks
and arms, to the hill and relieved the guard under Lieutenant
Baldwin. Tents and camp equipage were hauled up, and soon the
camp was established. I remained in a room at the custom-house,
where I could superintend the landing of the stores and their
proper distribution.

I had brought out from New York twenty thousand
dollars commissary funds, and eight thousand dollars quartermaster
funds, and as the ship contained about six months supply
of provisions, also a saw-mill, grist-mill, and almost every thing
needed, we were soon established comfortably. We found the people
of Monterey a mixed set of Americans, native Mexicans, and Indians,
about one thousand all told. They were kind and pleasant, and
seemed to have nothing to do, except such as owned ranches in
the country for the rearing of horses and cattle. Horses could
be bought at any price from four dollars up to sixteen, but no
horse was ever valued above a doubloon or Mexican ounce (sixteen
dollars). Cattle cost eight dollars fifty cents for the best,
and this made beef net about two cents a pound, but at that time
nobody bought beef by the pound, but by the carcass.

Game of all kindselk, deer, wild geese,
and duckswas abundant; but coffee, sugar, and small stores,
were rare and costly.

There were some half-dozen shops or stores,
but their shelves were empty. The people were very fond of riding,
dancing, and of shows of any kind. The young fellows took great
delight in showing off their horsemanship, and would dash along,
picking up a half-dollar from the ground, stop their horses in
full career and turn about on the space of a bullocks hide,
and their skill with the lasso was certainly wonderful. At full
speed they could cast their lasso about the horns of a bull, or
so throw it as to catch any particular foot. These fellows would
work all day on horseback in driving cattle or catching wild-horses
for a mere nothing, but all the money offered would not have hired
one of them to walk a mile. The girls were very fond of dancing,
and they did dance gracefully and well. Every Sunday, regularly,
we had a baile, or dance, and sometimes interspersed through the
week.

I remember very well, soon after our arrival,
that we were all invited to witness a play called Adam and
Eve. Eve was personated by a pretty young girl known as
Dolores Gomez, who, however, was dressed very unlike Eve, for
she was covered with a petticoat and spangles. Adam was personated
by her brother, the same who has since become somewhat famous
as the person on whom is founded the McGarrahan claim. God Almighty
was personated, and heavens occupants seemed very human.
Yet the play was pretty, interesting, and elicited universal applause.
All the month of February we were by day preparing for our long
stay in the country, and at night making the most of the balls
and parties of the most primitive kind, picking up a smattering
of Spanish, and extending our acquaintance with the people and
the costumbres del pais. I can well recall that [Lt. Edward Otho
Cresap] Ord and I, impatient to look inland, got permission and
started for the Mission of San Juan Bautista. Mounted on horses,
and with our carbines, we took the road by El Toro, quite a prominent
hill, around which passes the road to the south, following the
Salinas or Monterey River.

After about twenty miles over a sandy country
covered with oak-bushes and scrub, we entered quite a pretty valley
in which there was a ranch at the foot of the Toro. Resting there
a while and getting some information, we again started in the
direction of a mountain to the north of the Salinas, called the
Gavillano. It was quite dark when we reached the Salinas River,
which we attempted to pass at several points, but found it full
of water, and the quicksands were bad. Hearing the bark of a dog,
we changed our course in that direction, and, on hailing, we were
answered by voices which directed us where to cross. Our knowledge
of the language was limited, but we managed to understand, and
to flounder through the sand and water, and reached a small adobe
house on the banks of the Salinas, where we spent the night. The
house was a single room, without floor or glass; only a rude door,
and window with bars. Not a particle of food but meat, yet the
man and woman entertained us with the language of lords, put themselves,
their house, and every thing, at our disposition,
and made little barefoot children dance for our entertainment.
We made our supper of beef, and slept on a bullocks hide
on the dirt-floor. In the morning we crossed the Salinas Plain,
about fifteen miles of level ground, taking a shot occasionally
at wild-geese, which abounded there, and entering the well-wooded
valley that comes out from the foot of the Gavillano. We had cruised
about all day, and it was almost dark when we reached the house
of a Señor Gomez, father of those who at Monterey had performed
the parts of Adam and Eve. His house was a two-story adobe, and
had a fence in front. It was situated well up among the foot-hills
of the Gavillano, and could not be seen until within a few yards.
We hitched our horses to the fence and went in just as Gomez was
about to sit down to a tempting supper of stewed hare and tortillas.
We were officers and caballeros and could not be ignored. After
turning our horses to grass, at his invitation we joined him at
supper. The allowance, though ample for one, was rather short
for three, and I thought the Spanish grandiloquent politeness
of Gomez, who was fat and old, was not over-cordial. However,
down we sat, and I was helped to a dish of rabbit, with what I
thought to be an abundant sauce of tomato. Taking a good mouthful,
I felt as though I had taken liquid fire; the tomato was chile
colorado, or red pepper, of the purest kind. It nearly killed
me, and I saw Gomezs eyes twinkle, for he saw that his share
of supper was increased. I contented myself with bits of the meat,
and an abundant supply of tortillas. Ord was better case-hardened,
and stood it better.

We staid at Gomezs that night, sleeping,
as all did, on the ground, and the next morning we crossed the
hill by the bridle-path to the old Mission of San Juan Bautista.
The Mission was in a beautiful valley, very level, and bounded
on all sides by hills. The plain was covered with wild-grasses
and mustard, and had abundant water. Cattle and horses were seen
in all directions, and it was manifest that the priests who first
occupied the country were good judges of land. It was Sunday,
and all the people, about a hundred, had come to church from the
country round about. Ord was somewhat of a Catholic, and entered
the church with his clanking spurs and kneeled down, attracting
the attention of all, for he had on the uniform of an American
officer. As soon as church was out, all rushed to the various
sports. I saw the priest, with his gray robes tucked up, playing
at billiards, others were cock-fighting, and some at horse-racing.

My horse had become lame, and I resolved
to buy another. As soon as it was known that I wanted a horse,
several came for me, and displayed their horses by dashing past
and hauling them up short. There was a fine black stallion that
attracted my notice, and, after trying him myself, I concluded
a purchase. I left with the seller my own lame horse, which he
was to bring to me at Monterey, when I was to pay him ten dollars
for the other. The Mission of San Juan bore the marks of high
prosperity at a former period, and had a good pear-orchard just
under the plateau where stood the church.

After spending the day, Ord and I returned
to Monterey, about thirty-five miles, by a shorter route. Thus
passed the month of February, and, though there were no mails
or regular express, we heard occasionally from Yerba Buena and
Sutters Fort to the north, and from the army and navy about
Los Angeles at the south. We also knew that a quarrel had grown
up at Los Angeles, between General Kearny, Colonel Frémont,
and Commodore Stockton, as to the right to control affairs in
California. Kearny had with him only the fragments of the two
companies of dragoons, which had come across from New Mexico with
him, and had been handled very roughly by Don Andreas Pico, at
San Pascual, in which engagement Captains Moore and Johnson, and
Lieutenant Hammond, were killed, and Kearny himself wounded. There
remained with him Colonel Swords, quartermaster; Captain H. S.
Turner, First Dragoons; Captains Emory and Warner, Topographical
Engineers; Assistant Surgeon Griffin, and Lieutenant J. W. Davidson.
Frémont had marched down from the north with a battalion
of volunteers; Commodore Stockton had marched up from San Diego
to Los Angeles, with General Kearny, his dragoons, and a battalion
of sailors and marines, and was soon joined there by Frémont,
and they jointly received thewas soon joined there by Frémont,
and they jointly received the surrender of the insurgents under
Andreas Pico. We also knew that General R. B. Mason had been ordered
to California; that Colonel John D. Stevenson was coming out to
California with a regiment of New York Volunteers; that Commodore
Shubrick had orders also from the Navy Department to control matters
afloat; that General Kearny, by virtue of his rank, had the right
to control all the land-forces in the service of the United States;
and that Frémont claimed the same right by virtue of a
letter he had received from Colonel Benton, then a Senator, and
a man of great influence with Polks Administration. So that
among the younger officers the query was very natural, Who
the devil is Governor of California?

One day I was on board the Independence
frigate, dining with the ward-room officers, when a war-vessel
was reported in the offing, which in due time was made out to
be the Cyane, Captain DuPont. After dinner, we were all on deck,
to watch the new arrival, the ships meanwhile exchanging signals,
which were interpreted that General Kearny was on board. As the
Cyane approached, a boat was sent to meet her, with Commodore
Shubricks flag-officer, Lieutenant Lewis, to carry the usual
messages, and to invite General Kearny to come on board the Independence
as the guest of Commodore Shubrick. Quite a number of officers
were on deck, among them Lieutenants Wise, Montgomery Lewis, William
Chapman, and others, noted wits and wags of the navy. In due time
the Cyane anchored close by, and our boat was seen returning with
a stranger in the stern-sheets, clothed in army-blue. As the boat
came nearer, we saw that it was General Kearny with an old dragoon
coat on, and an army-cap, to which the general had added the broad
visor, cut from a full-dress hat, to shade his face and eyes against
the glaring sun of the Gila region. Chapman exclaimed: Fellows,
the problem is solved; there is the grand-vizier (visor) by Gd!
He is Governor of California."

All hands received the general with great
heartiness, and he soon passed out of our sight into the commodores
cabin. Between Commodore Shubrick and General Kearny existed from
that time forward the greatest harmony and good feeling, and no
further trouble existed as to the controlling power on the Pacific
coast. General Kearny had dispatched from San Diego his quartermaster,
Colonel Swords, to the Sandwich Islands, to purchase clothing
and stores for his men, and had come up to Monterey, bringing
with him Turner and Warner, leaving Emory and the company of dragoons
below. He was delighted to find a full strong company of artillery,
subject to his orders, well supplied with clothing and money in
all respects, and, much to the disgust of our Captain Tompkins,
he took half of his company clothing and part of the money held
by me for the relief of his worn-out and almost naked dragoons
left behind at Los Angeles. In a few days he moved on shore, took
up his quarters at Larkins house, and established his head-quarters,
with Captain Turner as his adjutant-general. One day Turner and
Warner were at my tent, and, seeing a store-box full of socks,
drawers, and calico shirts, of which I had laid in a three years
supply, and of which they had none, made known to me their wants,
and I told them to help themselves, which Turner and Warner did.
The latter, however, insisted on paying me the cost, and from
that date to this Turner and I have been close friends. Warner,
poor fellow, was afterward killed by Indians. Things gradually
came into shape, a semi-monthly courier line was established from
Yerba Buena to San Diego, and we were thus enabled to keep pace
with events throughout the country. In March Stevensons
regiment arrived. Colonel Mason also arrived by sea from Callao
in the store-ship Erie, and P. St. George Cookes battalion
of Mormons reached San Luis Rey. A. J. Smith and George Stoneman
were with him, and were assigned to the company of dragoons at
Los Angeles. All these troops and the navy regarded General Kearny
as the rightful commander, though Frémont still remained
at Los Angeles, styling himself as Governor, issuing orders and
holding his battalion of California Volunteers in apparent defiance
of General Kearny. Colonel Mason and Major Turner were sent down
by sea with a pay-master, with muster-rolls and orders to muster
this battalion into the service of the United States, to pay and
then to muster them out; but on their reaching Los Angeles Frémont
would not consent to it, and the controversy became so angry that
a challenge was believed to have passed between Mason and Frémont,
but the duel never came about. Turner rode up by land in four
or five days, and Frémont, becoming alarmed, followed him,
as we supposed, to over-take him, but he did not succeed. On Frémonts
arrival at Monterey, he camped in a tent about a mile out of town
and called on General Kearny, and it was reported that the latter
threatened him very severely and ordered him back to Los Angeles
immediately, to disband his volunteers, and to cease the exercise
of authority of any kind in the country. Feeling a natural curiosity
to see Frémont, who was then quite famous by reason of
his recent explorations and the still more recent conflicts with
Kearny and Mason, I rode out to his camp, and found him in a conical
tent with one Captain Owens, who was a mountaineer, trapper, etc.,
but originally from Zanesville, Ohio.

I spent an hour or so with Frémont
in his tent, took some tea with him, and left, without being much
impressed with him. In due time Colonel Swords returned from the
Sandwich Islands and relieved me as quartermaster. Captain William
G. Marcy, son of the Secretary of War, had also come out in one
of Stevensons ships as an assistant commissary of subsistence,
and was stationed at Monterey and relieved me as commissary, so
that I reverted to the condition of a company-officer. While acting
as a staff-officer I had lived at the custom-house in Monterey,
but when relieved I took a tent in line with the other company-officers
on the hill, where we had a mess.

Stevensons regiment reached San Francisco
Bay early in March, 1847. Three companies were stationed at the
Presidio under Major James A. Hardie; one company (Bracketts)
at Sonoma; three, under Colonel Stevenson, at Monterey; and three,
under Lieutenant-Colonel Burton, at Santa Barbara. One day I was
down at the headquarters at Larkins house, when General
Kearny remarked to me that he was going down to Los Angeles in
the ship Lexington, and wanted me to go along as his aide. Of
course this was most agreeable to me. Two of Stevensons
companies, with the headquarters and the colonel, were to go also.
They embarked, and early in May we sailed for San Pedro. Before
embarking, the United States line-of-battle-ship Columbus had
reached the coast from China with Commodore Biddle, whose rank
gave him the supreme command of the navy on the coast. He was
busy in calling inlassooingfrom the land-service
the various naval officers who under Stockton had been doing all
sorts of military and civil service on shore. Knowing that I was
to go down the coast with General Kearny, he sent for me and handed
me two unsealed parcels addressed to Lieutenant Wilson, United
States Navy, and Major Gillespie, United States Marines, at Los
Angeles. These were written orders pretty much in these words:
On receipt of this order you will repair at once on board
the United States ship Lexington at San Pedro, and on reaching
Monterey you will report to the undersigned.JAMES BIDDLE.
Of course, I executed my part to the letter, and these officers
were duly lassooed. We sailed down the coast with
a fair wind, and anchored inside the kelp, abreast of Johnsons
house. Messages were forthwith dispatched up to Los Angeles, twenty
miles off, and preparations for horses made for us to ride up.
We landed, and, as Kearny held to my arm in ascending the steep
path up the bluff, he remarked to himself, rather than to me,
that it was strange that Frémont did not want to return
north by the Lexington on account of sea-sickness, but preferred
to go by land over five hundred miles. The younger officers had
been discussing what the general would do with Frémont,
who was supposed to be in a state of mutiny. Some thought he would
be tried and shot, some that he would be carried back in irons;
and all agreed that if any one else than Frémont had put
on such airs, and had acted as he had done, Kearny would have
shown him no mercy, for he was regarded as the strictest sort
of a disciplinarian. We had a pleasant ride across the plain which
lies between the sea-shore and Los Angeles, which we reached in
about three hours, the infantry following on foot. We found Colonel
P. St. George Cooke living at the house of a Mr. Pryor, and the
company of dragoons, with A. J. Smith, Davidson, Stoneman, and
Dr. Griffin, quartered in an adobe-house close by. Frémont
held his court in the only two-story frame-house in the place.
After some time spent at Pryors house, General Kearny ordered
me to call on Frémont to notify him of his arrival, and
that he desired to see him. I walked round to the house which
had been pointed out to me as his, inquired of a man at the door
if the colonel was in, was answered Yes, and was conducted
to a large room on the second floor, where very soon Frémont
came in, and I delivered my message. As I was on the point of
leaving, he inquired where I was going to, and I answered that
I was going back to Pryors house, where the general was,
when he remarked that if I would wait a moment he would go along.
Of course I waited, and he soon joined me, dressed much as a Californian,
with the peculiar high, broad-brimmed hat, with a fancy cord,
and we walked together back to Pryors, where I left him
with General Kearny. We spent several days very pleasantly at
Los Angeles, then, as now, the chief pueblo of the south, famous
for its grapes, fruits, and wines. There was a hill close to the
town, from which we had a perfect view of the place. The surrounding
country is level, utterly devoid of trees, except the willows
and cotton-woods that line the Los Angeles Creek and the acequias,
or ditches, which lead from it. The space of ground cultivated
in vineyards seemed about five miles by one, embracing the town.
Every house had its inclosure of vineyard, which resembled a miniature
orchard, the vines being very old, ranged in rows, trimmed very
close, with irrigating ditches so arranged that a stream of water
could be diverted between each row of vines. The Los Angeles and
San Gabriel Rivers are fed by melting snows from a range of mountains
to the east, and the quantity of cultivated lands depends upon
the amount of water. This did not seem to be very large; but the
San Gabriel River, close by, was represented to contain a larger
volume of water, affording the means of greatly enlarging the
space for cultivation. The climate was so moderate that oranges,
figs, pomegranates, etc., were generally to be found in every
yard or inclosure.

At the time of our visit, General Kearny
was making his preparations to return overland to the United States,
and he arranged to secure a volunteer escort out of the battalion
of Mormons that was then stationed at San Luis Rey, under Colonel
Cooke and a Major Hunt. This battalion was only enlisted for one
year, and the time for their discharge was approaching, and it
was generally understood that the majority of the men wanted to
be discharged so as to join the Mormons who had halted at Salt
Lake, but a lieutenant and about forty men volunteered to return
to Missouri as the escort of General Kearny. These were mounted
on mules and horses, and I was appointed to conduct them to Monterey
by land.

Leaving the party at Los Angeles to follow
by sea in the Lexington, I started with the Mormon detachment
and traveled by land. We averaged about thirty miles a day, stopped
one day at Santa Barbara, where I saw Colonel Burton, and so on
by the usually traveled road to Monterey, reaching it in about
fifteen days, arriving some days in advance of the Lexington.
This gave me the best kind of an opportunity for seeing the country,
which was very sparsely populated indeed, except by a few families
at the various Missions. We had no wheeled vehicles, but packed
our food and clothing on mules driven ahead, and we slept on the
ground in the open air, the rainy season having passed. Frémont
followed me by land in a few days, and, by the end of May, General
Kearny was all ready at Monterey to take his departure, leaving
to succeed him in command Colonel R. B. Mason, First Dragoons.
Our Captain (Tompkins), too, had become discontented at his separation
from his family, tendered his resignation to General Kearny, and
availed himself of a sailing-vessel bound for Callao to reach
the East. Colonel Mason selected me as his adjutant-general; and
on the very last day of May General Kearny, with his Mormon escort,
with Colonel Cooke, Colonel Swords (quartermaster), Captain Turner,
and a naval officer, Captain Radford, took his departure for the
East overland, leaving us in full possession of California and
its fate. Frémont also left California with General Kearny,
and with him departed all cause of confusion and disorder in the
country. from that time forth no one could dispute the authority
of Colonel Mason as in command of all the United States forces
on shore, while the senior naval officer had a like control afloat.
This was Commodore James Biddle, who had reached the station from
China in the Columbus, and he in turn was succeeded by Commodore
T. Ap Catesby Jones in the line-of-battle-ship Ohio. At that time
Monterey was our headquarters, and the naval commander for a time
remained there, but subsequently San Francisco Bay became the
chief naval rendezvous.

Colonel R. B. Mason, First Dragoons, was
an officer of great experience, of stern character, deemed by
some harsh and severe, but in all my intercourse with him he was
kind and agreeable. He had a large fund of good sense, and, during
our long period of service together, I enjoyed his unlimited confidence.
He had been in his day a splendid shot and hunter, and often entertained
me with characteristic anecdotes of Taylor, Twiggs, Worth, Harney,
Martin Scott, etc., etc., who were then in Mexico, gaining a national
fame. California had settled down to a condition of absolute repose,
and we naturally repined at our fate in being so remote from the
war in Mexico, where our comrades were reaping large honors. Mason
dwelt in a house not far from the Custom-House, with Captain Lanman,
United States Navy; I had a small adobe-house back of Larkins.
Halleck and Dr. Murray had a small log-house not far off. The
company of artillery was still on the hill, under the command
of Lieutenant Ord, engaged in building a fort whereon to mount
the guns we had brought out in the Lexington, and also in constructing
quarters out of hewn pine-logs for the men. Lieutenant Minor,
a very clever young officer, had taken violently sick and died
about the time I got back from Los Angeles, leaving Lieutenants
Ord and Lesser alone with the company, with Assistant-Surgeon
Robert Murray. Captain William G. Marcy was the quartermaster
and commissary. Naglees company of Stevensons regiment
had been mounted and was sent out against the Indians in the San
Joaquin Valley, and Shannons company occupied the barracks.
Shortly after General Kearny had gone East, we found an order
of his on record, removing one Mr. Nash, the Alcalde of Sonoma,
and appointing to his place ex-Governor L. W. Boggs. A letter
came to Colonel and Governor Mason from Boggs, whom he had personally
known in Missouri, complaining that, though he had been appointed
alcalde, the then incumbent (Nash) utterly denied Kearnys
right to remove him, because he had been elected by the people
under the proclamation of Commodore Sloat, and refused to surrender
his office or to account for his acts as alcalde. Such a proclamation
had been made by Commodore Sloat shortly after the first occupation
of California, announcing that the people were free and enlightened
American citizens, entitled to all the rights and privileges as
such, and among them the right to elect their own officers, etc.
The people of Sonoma town and valley, some forty or fifty immigrants
from the United States, and very few native Californians, had
elected Mr. Nash, and, as stated, he refused to recognize the
right of a mere military commander to eject him and to appoint
another to his place. Neither General Kearny nor Mason had much
respect for this kind of buncombe, but assumed the
true doctrine that California was yet a Mexican province, held
by right of conquest, that the military commander was held responsible
to the country, and that the province should be held in statu
quo until a treaty of peace. This letter of Boggs was therefore
referred to Captain Brackett, whose company was stationed at Sonoma,
with orders to notify Nash that Boggs was the rightful alcalde;
that he must quietly surrender his office, with the books and
records thereof, and that he must account for any moneys received
from the sale of town-lots, etc., etc.; and in the event of refusal
he (Captain Brackett) must compel him by the use of force. In
due time we got Bracketts answer, saying that the little
community of Sonoma was in a dangerous state of effervescence
caused by his orders; that Nash was backed by most of the Americans
there who had come across from Missouri with American ideas; that
as he (Brackett) was a volunteer officer, likely to be soon discharged,
and as he designed to settle there, he asked in consequence to
be excused from the execution of this (to him) unpleasant duty.
Such a request, coming to an old soldier like Colonel Mason, aroused
his wrath, and he would have proceeded rough-shod against Brackett,
who, by-the-way, was a West Point graduate, and ought to have
known better; but I suggested to the colonel that, the case being
a test one, he had better send me up to Sonoma, and I would settle
it quick enough. He then gave me an order to go to Sonoma to carry
out the instructions already given to Brackett.

I took one soldier with me, Private Barnes,
with four horses, two of which we rode, and the other two we drove
ahead. The first day we reached Gilroys and camped by a
stream near three or four adobe-huts known as Gilroys ranch.
The next day we passed Murphys, San Jose´, and Santa
Clara Mission, camping some four miles beyond, where a kind of
hole had been dug in the ground for water. The whole of this distance,
now so beautifully improved and settled, was then scarcely occupied,
except by poor ranches producing horses and cattle. The pueblo
of San Jose´ was a string of low adobe-houses festooned
with red peppers and garlic; and the Mission of Santa Clara was
a dilapidated concern, with its church and orchard. The long line
of poplar-trees lining the road from San Jose´ to Santa
Clara bespoke a former period when the priests had ruled the land.
Just about dark I was lying on the ground near the well, and my
soldier Barnes had watered our horses and picketed them to grass,
when we heard a horse crushing his way through the big mustard-bushes
which filled the plain, and soon a man came to us to inquire if
we had seen a saddle-horse pass up the road. We explained to him
what we had heard, and he went off in pursuit of his horse. Before
dark he came back unsuccessful, and gave his name as Bidwell,
the same gentleman who has since been a member of Congress, who
is married to Miss Kennedy, of Washington City, and now lives
in princely style at Chico, California.

He explained that he was a surveyor, and
had been in the lower country engaged in surveying land; that
the horse had escaped him with his saddle-bags containing all
his notes and papers, and some six hundred dollars in money, all
the money he had earned. He spent the night with us on the ground,
and the next morning we left him there to continue the search
for his horse, and I afterward heard that he had found his saddle-bags
all right, but never recovered the horse. The next day toward
night we approached the Mission of San Francisco, and the village
of Yerba Buena, tired and wearythe wind as usual blowing
a perfect hurricane, and a more desolate region it was impossible
to conceive of. Leaving Barnes to work his way into the town as
best he could with the tired animals, I took the freshest horse
and rode forward. I fell in with Lieutenant Fabius Stanley, United
States Navy, and we rode into Yerba Buena together about an hour
before sundown, there being nothing but a path from the Mission
into the town, deep and heavy with drift-sand. My horse could
hardly drag one foot after the other when we reached the old Hudson
Bay Companys house, which was then the store of Howard and
Mellus. There I learned where Captain Folsom, the quartermaster,
was to be found. He was staying with a family of the name of Grimes,
who had a small house back of Howards store, which must
have been near where Sacramento Street now crosses Kearny. Folsom
was a classmate of mine, had come out with Stevensons regiment
as quartermaster, and was at the time the chief-quartermaster
of the department. His office was in the old custom-house standing
at the northwest corner of the Plaza. He had hired two warehouses,
the only ones there at the time, of one Liedesdorff, the principal
man of Yerba Buena, who also owned the only public house, or tavern,
called the City Hotel, on Kearny Street, at the southeast corner
of the Plaza. I stopped with Folsom at Mrs. Grimess, and
he sent my horse, as also the other three when Barnes got in after
dark, to a corral where he had a little barley, but no hay. At
that time nobody fed a horse, but he was usually turned out to
pick such scanty grass as he could find on the side-hills. The
few government horses used in town were usually sent out to the
Presidio, where the grass was somewhat better. At that time (July,
1847), what is now called San Francisco was called Yerba Buena.
A naval officer, Lieutenant Washington A. Bartlett, its first
alcalde, had caused it to be surveyed and laid out into blocks
and lots, which were being sold at sixteen dollars a lot of fifty
varas square; the understanding being that no single person could
purchase of the alcalde more than one in-lot of fifty varas, and
one out-lot of a hundred varas. Folsom, however, had got his clerks
orderlies, etc., to buy lots, and they, for a small consideration,
conveyed them to him, so that he was nominally the owner of a
good many lots. Lieutenant Halleck had bought one of each kind,
and so had Warner. Many naval officers had also invested, and
Captain Folsom advised me to buy some, but I felt actually insulted
that he should think me such a fool as to pay money for property
in such a horrid place as Yerba Buena, especially ridiculing his
quarter of the city, then called Happy Valley. At that day Montgomery
Street was, as now, the business street, extending from Jackson
to Sacramento, the water of the bay leaving barely room for a
few houses on its east side, and the public warehouses were on
a sandy beach about where the Bank of California now stands, viz.,
near the intersection of Sansome and California Streets. Along
Montgomery Street were the stores of Howard & Mellus, Frank
Ward, Sherman & Ruckel, Ross & Co., and it may be one
or two others. Around the Plaza were a few houses, among them
the City Hotel and the Custom-House, single-story adobes with
tiled roofs, and they were by far the most substantial and best
houses in the place. The population was estimated at about four
hundred, of whom Kanakas (natives of the Sandwich Islands) formed
the bulk. At the foot of Clay Street was a small wharf which small
boats could reach at high tide; but the principal landing-place
was where some stones had fallen into the water, about where Broadway
now intersects Battery Street. On the steep bluff above had been
excavated, by the navy, during the year before, a bench, wherein
were mounted a couple of navy-guns, styled the battery, which,
I suppose, gave name to the street. I explained to Folsom the
object of my visit, and learned from him that he had no boat in
which to send me to Sonoma, and that the only chance to get there
was to borrow a boat from the navy. The line-of-battle-ship Columbus
was then lying at anchor off the town, and he said if I would
get up early the next morning I could go off to her in one of
the market-boats.

Accordingly, I was up bright and early,
down at the wharf, found a boat, and went off to the Columbus
to see Commodore Biddle. On reaching the ship and stating to the
officer of the deck my business, I was shown into the commodores
cabin, and soon made known to him my object. Biddle was a small-sized
man, but vivacious in the extreme. He had a perfect contempt for
all humbug, and at once entered into the business with extreme
alacrity. I was somewhat amused at the importance he attached
to the step. He had a chaplain, and a private secretary, in a
small room latticed off from his cabin, and he first called on
them to go out, and, when we were alone, he enlarged on the folly
of Sloats proclamation, giving the people the right to elect
their own officers, and commended Kearny and Mason for nipping
that idea in the bud, and keeping the power in their own hands.
He then sent for the first lieutenant (Drayton), and inquired
if there were among the officers on board any who had ever been
in the Upper Bay, and learning that there was a midshipman (Whittaker)
he was sent for. It so happened that this midshipman had been
on a frolic on shore a few nights before, and was accordingly
much frightened when summoned into the commodores presence,
but as soon as he was questioned as to his knowledge of the bay,
he was sensibly relieved, and professed to know everything about
it.

Accordingly, the long-boat was ordered with
this midshipman and eight sailors, prepared with water and provisions
for several days absence. Biddle then asked me if I knew
any of his own officers, and which one of them I would prefer
to accompany me. I knew most of them, and we settled down on Louis
McLane. He was sent for, and it was settled that McLane and I
were to conduct this important mission, and the commodore enjoined
on us complete secrecy, so as to insure success, and he especially
cautioned us against being pumped by his ward-room officers, Chapman,
Lewis, Wise, etc., while on board his ship. With this injunction,
I was dismissed to the ward-room, where I found Chapman, Lewis,
and Wise, dreadfully exercised at our profound secrecy. The fact
that McLane and I had been closeted with the commodore for an
hour, that orders for the boat and stores had been made, that
the chaplain and clerk had been sent out of the cabin, etc., etc.,
all excited their curiosity; but McLane and I kept our secret
well. The general impression was, that we had some knowledge about
the fate of Captain Montgomerys two sons and the crew that
had been lost the year before. In 1846 Captain Montgomery commanded
at Yerba Buena, on board the St. Mary sloop-of-war, and he had
a detachment of men stationed up at Sonoma. Occasionally a boat
was sent up with provisions or intelligence to them. Montgomery
had two sons on board his ship, one a midshipman, the other his
secretary. Having occasion to send some money up to Sonoma, he
sent his two sons with a good boat and crew. The boat started
with a strong breeze and a very large sail, was watched from the
deck until she was out of sight, and has never been heard of since.
There was, of course, much speculation as to their fate, some
contending that the boat must have been capsized in San Pablo
Bay, and that all were lost; others contending that the crew had
murdered the officers for the money, and then escaped; but, so
far as I know, not a man of that crew has ever been seen or heard
of since. When at last the boat was ready for us, we started,
leaving all hands, save the commodore, impressed with the belief
that we were going on some errand connected with the loss of the
missing boat and crew of the St. Mary. We sailed directly north,
up the bay and across San Pablo, reached the mouth of Sonoma Creek
about dark, and during the night worked up the creek some twelve
miles by means of the tide, to a landing called the Embarcadero.
To maintain the secrecy which the commodore had enjoined on us,
McLane and I agreed to keep up the delusion by pretending to be
on a marketing expedition to pick up chickens, pigs, etc., for
the mess of the Columbus, soon to depart for home.

Leaving the midshipman and four sailors
to guard the boat, we started on foot with the other four for
Sonoma Town, which we soon reached. It was a simple open square,
around which were some adobe-houses, that of General Vallejo occupying
one side. On another was an unfinished two-story adobe building,
occupied as a barrack by Bracketts company. We soon found
Captain Brackett, and I told him that I intended to take Nash
a prisoner and convey him back to Monterey to answer for his mutinous
behavior. I got an old sergeant of his company, whom I had known
in the Third Artillery, quietly to ascertain the whereabouts of
Nash, who was a bachelor, stopping with the family of a lawyer
named Green. The sergeant soon returned, saying that Nash had
gone over to Napa, but would be back that evening; so McLane and
I went up to a farm of some pretensions, occupied by one Andreas
Hoepner, with a pretty Sitka wife, who lived a couple of miles
above Sonoma, and we bought of him some chickens, pigs, etc. We
then visited Governor Boggss family and that of General
Vallejo, who was then, as now, one of the most prominent and influential
natives of California. About dark I learned that Nash had come
back, and then, giving Brackett orders to have a cart ready at
the corner of the plaza, McLane and I went to the house of Green.
Posting an armed sailor on each side of the house, we knocked
at the door and walked in. We found Green, Nash, and two women,
at supper. I inquired if Nash were in, and was first answered
No, but one of the women soon pointed to him, and
he rose. We were armed with pistols, and the family was evidently
alarmed. I walked up to him and took his arm, and told him to
come along with me. He asked me, Where? and I said,
Monterey. Why? I would explain that more
at leisure. Green put himself between me and the door, and demanded,
in theatrical style, why I dared arrest a peaceable citizen in
his house. I simply pointed to my pistol, and told him to get
out of the way, which he did. Nash asked to get some clothing,
but I told him he should want for nothing. We passed out, Green
following us with loud words, which brought the four sailors to
the front-door, when I told him to hush up or I would take him
prisoner also. About that time one of the sailors, handling his
pistol carelessly, discharged it, and Green disappeared very suddenly.
We took Nash to the cart, put him in, and proceeded back to our
boat. The next morning we were gone.

Nash being out of the way, Boggs entered
on his office, and the right to appoint or remove from civic office
was never again questioned in California during the régime.

Nash was an old man, and was very much alarmed
for his personal safety. He had come across the Plains, and had
never yet seen the sea. While on our way down the bay, I explained
fully to him the state of things in California, and he admitted
he had never looked on it in that light before, and professed
a willingness to surrender his office; but, having gone so far,
I thought it best to take him to Monterey. On our way down the
bay the wind was so strong, as we approached the Columbus, that
we had to take refuge behind Yerba Buena Island, then called Goat
Island, where we landed, and I killed a gray seal. The next morning,
the wind being comparatively light, we got out and worked our
way up to the Columbus, where I left my prisoner on board, and
went on shore to find Commodore Biddle, who had gone to dine with
Frank Ward. I found him there, and committed Nash to his charge,
with the request that he would send him down to Monterey, which
he did in the sloop-of-war Dale, Captain Selfridge commanding.
I then returned to Monterey by land, and, when the Dale arrived,
Colonel Mason and I went on board, found poor old Mr. Nash half
dead with sea-sickness and fear, lest Colonel Mason would treat
him with extreme military rigor. But, on the contrary, the colonel
spoke to him kindly, released him as a prisoner on his promise
to go back to Sonoma, surrender his office to Boggs, and account
to him for his acts while in office. He afterward came on shore,
was provided with clothing and a horse, returned to Sonoma, and
I never have seen him since.

Matters and things settled down in Upper
California, and all moved along with peace and harmony. The war
still continued in Mexico, and the navy authorities resolved to
employ their time with the capture of Mazatlan and Guaymas. Lower
California had already been occupied by two companies of Stevensons
regiment, under Lieutenant- Colonel Burton, who had taken post
at La Paz, and a small party of sailors was on shore at San Josef,
near Cape San Lucas, detached from the Lexington, Lieutenant-Commander
Bailey. The orders for this occupation were made by General Kearny
before he left, in pursuance of instructions from the War Department,
merely to subserve a political end, for there were few or no people
in Lower California, which is a miserable, wretched, dried-up
peninsula. I remember the proclamation made by Burton and Captain
Bailey, in taking possession, which was in the usual florid style.
Bailey signed his name as the senior naval officer at the station,
but, as it was necessary to put it into Spanish to reach the inhabitants
of the newly-acquired country, it was interpreted, El mas
antiguo de todos los oficiales de la marina, etc., which,
literally, is the most ancient of all the naval officers,
etc., a translation at which we made some fun.

The expedition to Mazatlan was, however,
for a different purpose, viz., to get possession of the ports
of Mazatlan and Guaymas, as a part of the war against Mexico,
and not for permanent conquest.

Commodore Shubrick commanded this expedition,
and took Halleck along as his engineer-officer. They captured
Mazatlan and Guaymas, and then called on Colonel Mason to send
soldiers down to hold possession, but he had none to spare, and
it was found impossible to raise other volunteers either in California
or Oregon, and the navy held these places by detachments of sailors
and marines till the end of the war. Burton also called for ree&die;nforcements,
and Naglees company was sent to him from Monterey, and these
three companies occupied Lower California at the end of the Mexican
War. Major Hardie still commanded at San Francisco and above;
Company F, Third Artillery, and Shannons company of volunteers,
were at Monterey; Lippetts company at Santa Barbara; Colonel
Stevenson, with one company of his regiment, and the company of
the First Dragoons, was at Los Angeles; and a company of Mormons,
ree&die;enlisted out of the Mormon Battalion, garrisoned at
San Diegoand thus matters went along throughout 1847 and
1848. I had occasion to make several trips to Yerba Buena and
back; and in the spring of 1848 Colonel Mason and I went down
to Santa Barbara in the sloop-of-war Dale.

I spent much time in hunting deer and bear
in the mountains back of the Carmel Mission, and ducks and geese
in the plains of the Salinas, As soon as the fall rains set in,
the young oats would sprout up, and myriads of ducks, brant, and
geese, made their appearance. In a single day, or rather in the
evening of one day and the morning of the next, I could load a
pack-mule with geese and ducks. They had grown somewhat wild from
the increased number of hunters, yet, by marking well the place
where a flock lighted, I could, by taking advantage of gullies
or the shape of the ground, creep up within range; and, giving
one barrel on the ground, and the other as they rose, I have secured
as many as nine at one discharge. Colonel Mason on one occasion
killed eleven geese by one discharge of small shot. The seasons
in California are well marked. About October and November the
rains begin, and the whole country, plains and mountains, becomes
covered with a bright-green grass, with endless flowers. The intervals
between the rains give the finest weather possible. These rains
are less frequent in March, and cease altogether in April and
May, when gradually the grass dies and the whole aspect of things
changes, first to yellow, then to brown, and by midsummer all
is burnt up and dry as an ash-heap.

When General Kearny first departed we took
his office at Larkins; but shortly afterward we had a broad
stairway constructed to lead from the outside to the upper front
porch of the barracks. By cutting a large door through the adobe-wall,
we made the supper room in the centre our office; and another
side-room, connected with it by a door, was Colonel Masons
private office.

I had a single clerk, a soldier named Baden;
and William E. P. Hartnell, citizen, also had a table in the same
room. He was the government interpreter, and had charge of the
civil archives. After Hallecks return from Mazatlan, he
was, by Colonel Mason, made Secretary of State; and he then had
charge of the civil archives, including the land-titles, of which
Frémont first had possession, but which had reverted to
us when he left the country.

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